


You've Got Me Good

by hellhoundsprey



Series: ficlet prompts [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Feminization, M/M, Panty Kink, Prostate Milking, Sam In Panties, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 15:37:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7058599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellhoundsprey/pseuds/hellhoundsprey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: weecest with bottom sam and panties kink<br/>I’m such a slut for weecest, dude; it’s <i>pathetic</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Got Me Good

“Pull ‘em aside, sweetheart.” Dean’s mouth is so close that Sam can feel it tickling over his skin. “Lemme see it. Lemme see that pretty pussy.”

If Sam was created to say “no” to his brother, then his entire life is one giant, rude joke – so he lets an uneasy exhale escape him, gathers see-through pink under two hooked fingers and pulls.

“Mmmmh.” Dean’s pie-eating moan. Sam’s eyelids flutter closed because that lick of lips he hears can only mean one thing.

They have been doing this for a few weeks now but Sam still flinches like it’s the first time, every time, when his brother’s lips close around his asshole, when that wide, always-starving tongue flicks at him like a “baby, please”.

All Sam can do is gasp, trying to keep breathing, pushing the one side of his face he’s ended up on deeper into the sheets, shuffle his knees steadier, not letting his fingers slip, arching his back some more.

Dean’s gentle hands guide Sam’s hands away eventually, let them drop to the sides so he can take over, can tug on the flimsy material of the panties he got from only god knows where. Leans in even closer; Sam can hear denim-knees shuffling over crappy motel carpet. Dean smothers his face in Sam’s ass and French-kisses it until Sam’s cock is drooling hard enough to drip through the panties.

Dean likes it when Sam works himself back on his tongue. Says things like, “Yeah, get it,” or kneads at Sam’s ass, gives torturing flat laps instead of the brain-dissolving, deep curls, moans like Sam’s insides are made of candy and he can never get enough of tasting them.

Dean can be really weird. But that’s okay, Sam thinks, because he’s not much better himself.

“Gotta tell me when it hurts,” and Sam hears the silent _Sammy_ being added to that, shivers because a rough pad of a thumb steals itself next to a still flicking tongue, prods a bit before it starts pushing in. “Then I’ll get the lube.”

Breathless, silly, voice hitching, Sam couldn’t _not_ accept Dean forcing him wide, wider, makes his rim stretch taut around a digit, two. Dean makes him watch sometimes, when there’s a mirror available - _look how pretty you are, sweetheart._

“’Y'gonna do it in them?”

Green eyes flick open for Sam and Sam could drown in them all the way over his shoulder, his back, nestled on his ass. “You want that, yeah? Keepin’ them on?” Sam nods willingly and Dean praises with, “Yeah, good girl. We’ll do that.”

Sam gets a last noisy slurp, a last twist of fingers and one surprising, gentle tug and squeeze to his oversensitive, neglected cock, through the panties and burning hot, and Sam lets himself sink to his belly for the time it takes Dean to rummage through his bag to retrieve what Sam saw him pocket in a random gas station in deep-ass Idaho. His face feels hot, and Dean undressing rather passingly, out of pure necessity, doesn’t truly help.

His brother climbs back into bed wearing nothing but his necklace, and both crane their necks to kiss as early as possible. Dean hums against Sam’s teeth and Sam doesn’t exactly love his own taste, but Dean’s makes up for everything.

Dean must be impatient today. No real wonder, since there hadn’t been a quiet minute for them the past few days, no Dad-free time and he’ll be back in about an hour so they have to make their time’s worth. Dean’s good at that though, always thinks of everything and his cock is already slick and pushing up into Sam before Sam even had time to smell the scientific strawberry flavor of the lube. A thumb holds the panties away just far enough; Sam can feel its frills tickling close to his rim.

He squirms and tosses his head but Dean lets him tug on his hair with a blind, furious little hand, and he coos sweet words against Sam’s jaw, side of mouth, has one hand on a bony hip and one on a stiff nipple. Sam is allowed to be loud today, Dean said, but his throat won’t let out much more than amazed but stifled mewls. The constant changes of rules, of when to show how much… It’s hard to adapt this quickly. Better a little too less than too much though.

Dean’s breath is heavy once he’s buried to the hilt, when Sam gives a wiggle with his hips that swivels his big brother’s cock inside of him, so deep that it hurts when the angle isn’t careful. Sam is pretty sure they shouldn’t be doing this kind of stuff, at least not yet, not until Sam has grown some more, but Dean is always so sweet and asks and kisses so convincingly that Sam cannot send him away. Wouldn’t want to, anyway. Dean wouldn’t hurt him, ever, so Sam trusts. He hasn’t been disappointed so far.

There is so much lube that the sounds are obscene, bringing more sweat to Sam’s armpits and more heat to Dean’s hands where they are holding on to him. The bed starts groaning softly. That always eggs Sam on. When he moans a little louder, Dean encourages with, “Yeah, yeah, that’s it,” and that always sounds so hot, so good that it makes Sam clamp up down there, makes him feel Dean even closer, and it’s downhill from there every time.

“D-Dean, it’s, it’s happenin’,” and Dean gets up on an elbow at that, has to see while Sam seizes all stiff, chokes on his breath. He barely gets his eyes open to watch his cock spurting inside of the panties in perfect time with Dean’s thrusts. They go right along; quicken when Dean speeds up, slow down or even die out when Dean does so. Dean knew how to make Sam do that from the very beginning. Sam can’t imagine this working with anyone else.

It’s dying off now, all spent and empty, but there are some lasts blurts at the sudden intensity of their rhythm, at Dean’s cock swelling just a little more, ready to burst, hammering relentlessly against Sam’s prostate. Sam is reduced to whimpers, boneless and soft and Dean holds him tight, digs his fingers and nose into his skin while he lets loose, too, locks and shakes apart inside (so deep Sam knows it’ll still be seeping out tomorrow).

“Oh god,” Dean groans, even though Sam knows his brother doesn’t even pray.


End file.
